


dealing in darknesses

by brookethenerd



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Post-Break Up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2021-01-21 13:56:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21300557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brookethenerd/pseuds/brookethenerd
Summary: from @nadiahilker break up au prompt list:i literally can’t sleep alone anymore so i’ve shown up at your door in my pajamas, can we have one more nap together, please?
Relationships: Steve Harrington/Reader, Steve Harrington/You
Comments: 2
Kudos: 59





	dealing in darknesses

It’s been four years since you used Steve Harrington’s front door. He’d propped a ladder against the side of the house leading to his roof when you were Seniors, and it was far easier to just climb up and knock on his window. It cut out any potential interaction with his parents - though more due to Steve’s lack of a desire to talk with them than yours. He and his parents lived in the same house, but they operated on different frequencies.

You hadn’t _meant_ to come to his house. But after the events at Starcourt, sleep was a beast you chased and never caught. Your bedroom walls were too constricting and your mind was too loud, so most nights you ended up wandering around town. The quiet was peaceful and the dark calming.

Except, not tonight. Tonight, monsters hid in every shadow and behind every tree. Tonight, you couldn’t outrun the ghosts clunking behind you like cans on a newlywed’s car.

You and Steve had called it off a month ago, two months after Starcourt, both of you unable to see past the losses you’d all suffered. The Upside Down pulled you apart slowly until you didn’t recognize him - or yourself. You weren’t sure it was something either of you wanted; it was something you _needed_. Neither of you was whole enough to be there for someone else.

But you were there, anyways. Because you didn’t know how to sleep alone. Because, and you could barely admit this to yourself, you _missed_ him. You missed him so badly it hurt.

You knocked hesitantly and stepped back, rocking on your heels, regretting coming instantly. No one answered and you turned to leave, wrapping your arms around your torso. As soon as you stepped off the front porch the door opened and you froze, turning back around.

Steve stood in the doorway, looking younger than his nineteen years in a hoodie and sweats that dwarfed his figure. He’d lost weight since Starcourt, evident in his sunken cheeks and looser clothes.

“Hey,” he said, voice a little raspy from sleep, like it wasn’t odd to find you on his doorstep at three in the morning.

You brows pulled together and your lips parted, but no words came out. Steve stepped forward.

“You okay?” He asked. You pressed your lips together, gaze darting to the dark street behind you before returning to his face. His features softened and he stepped aside, jerking his chin toward his front room.

“Come on in,” he said. You moved past him and into the dark, warm house, and he pulled the door shut behind you. He headed for the stairs and you followed wordlessly; you may not still be together, but you knew the motions. You couldn’t forget them if you wanted.

When you reached his room, Steve dropped down onto his bed and you sat on the edge of his desk. Before, you’d have sat beside him.

“You look tired,” he said. You scoffed.

“Thanks.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I know.”

“Nightmares?” He asked. You shook your head.

“I…I don’t sleep so well on my own anymore. I don’t sleep _at all_, actually.”

Steve’s mouth turned down and he leaned forward, forearms propped on his knees.

“Yeah, me neither.”

“You could have told me,” you said.

“Says the one who showed up at my door at 3 am.”

“I’ve shown up here far later than that.”

“Not through the front door,” he said with a little smile, shaking his head. It was a sad smile, one that made your chest ache.

“All those years climbing onto the roof gave me great legs.”

“_Oh_, I know,” he said, and then seemed to realize his words, sitting up and looking toward the window for a beat, then back at you. “How have you been? Really?”

“Besides the consistent insomnia?”

His lips quirked up.

“Besides that.”

“I nearly took someone’s head off a few days ago when they stepped out from behind a building too fast. I thought they were…”

“Yeah, I know what you mean.”

“My brain hasn’t quite gotten the memo that we ended it. That the monsters are gone.”

“There’s a lot of habits that are hard to break,” he said. Before, you’d have crossed the room and let him envelop you in his arms, tugged the blankets over your heads and shoved the dark away. But you didn’t know the rules, anymore. You didn’t know where the line was, or what would happen if you crossed it. This was foreign territory, and it didn’t matter that you’d known each other for years, that you understood the way his mind worked better than your own. It didn’t even matter that you loved him; it hadn’t been enough, before.

“How are your headaches?” You asked. It was one of those things you were sure if you were allowed to bring up. It wasn’t something you were sure you were supposed to know anymore.

That’s the hardest part. Taking all the knowledge and pretending it doesn’t exist. Pretending not to care; pretending not to know.

All the hits he’d taken over the last years had caught up with him, and he’d been getting headaches since Starcourt. Even after his concussion healed, you spent many a night nursing mind-splitting headaches, feeding him pain meds and water, keeping the lights low and noise down.

“It’s alright,” he said, “nothing I can’t handle.”

“You can always call me, you know,” you said.

“I know,” he said. “It’s just…”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.”

An uncomfortable silence - not quite awkward, but teetering on the edge of it - fell between you; it was odd to feel unsteady around him. It was different from the nervous energy of the beginning of the relationship, more painful.

“I miss you,” you said suddenly. You hadn’t meant to say it, hadn’t even realized you were going to until the words were hanging between you. Steve straightened, lips parting. Part of you expected him to close off and ask you to leave; you didn’t know what you’d do if he did. If _you_ could handle it.

But he didn’t ask you to leave. All he did was let out a long sigh, and say, “Me too.”

And instead of the door slamming shut, he’d nudged it open. You couldn’t help but jam your foot in the entrance.

“Can we just pretend, for one night?” You asked. He didn’t reply, and you said, “Just to get some sleep. We don’t have to-”

“_Stay_,” he said.

Your stomach twisted, that one word managing to slice through whatever defenses you might have had left.

You crossed the room and kicked off your shoes. Steve tugged the covers back, sliding beneath them and leaving room for you, as he’d done for two years. You climbed in beside him, reaching over to flick the lamp off and washing the room in darkness.

After a moment’s hesitation, Steve rolled toward you, arms sliding around your waist. He didn’t pull you as close as he might have a few weeks ago, but you were so starved for the touch you didn’t care. You shifted closer, hands coming to settle on his chest, the fabric of his shirt soft against your fingers.

“Thank you,” you said. He ducked his head against your neck, the gesture so intimate it made your belly flop.

“You don’t have to thank me,” he murmured, lifting his head and laying it on the same pillow as yours, his face inches away.

“I’m not really supposed to show up at your house in the middle of the night anymore.”

“Why not?” He asked, like a petulant child.

“You know why.”

His brows twitched, and he said, “I guess I just don’t care.”

Your lips turned up ever so slightly.

“I don’t think I do, either.”

It only made things more complicated to think that the knot you thought you’d had to ditch could be unraveled. It was impossible not to want to try; not with him, tucked against you, warm breath on your cheek, touch gentle on your back.

There were a million reasons to walk away. Tons upon tons of baggage and bad memories you thought you couldn’t carry. But being without him only made you miss the weight.

“What do we do about that?” He asked.

You paused, and shifted closer to him, tucking your head against his chest. His arms tightened around you.

“That’s a tomorrow problem,” you said.

There was no easy solution, no switch to shut off all the bad things that had come between you in the first place. But you were tired of missing him and tired of pretending and plain old tired above all.

So, you closed your eyes, and Steve tugged the blankets up around you, and for the night, you weren’t the broken fragments left behind by the Upside Down. All the problems were discarded on the floor, to be picked up at a later time.

They would still be there tomorrow. But maybe, just maybe, you could deal with them together.


End file.
